Page 12 of The Attercop

“Let me look at it first,” Declan yelled back. He scanned the contents of the file folder—a single piece of paper with a long email, addressed to Declan Hunt Investigations. After a few seconds he closed the folder and looked up at her. His face read somewhere between disdain and disbelief. “Is this what it’s come to? Babysitting kids!”

“I’ll take it if he won’t,” Charlie called out again as he appeared in the doorway. “I’m not too proud.”

“Pride has nothing to do with it,” Declan said. “I have to think of the company’s reputation.”

“It isnota babysitting job,” Mrs B said.

“What else would you call having to look after a seventeen-year-old girl while she moves into her university dorm?”

“Sounds like a babysitting job,” Charlie said to her with a smirk on his face.

Mrs B ignored the comment. “She’s the daughter of a wealthy businessman and she’ll be going to the University of Calgary to study Commerce and Trade.”

“Why us?” Declan asked.

“As you would have seen if you’d read the full document, Mr Slate said he doesn’t want a fuss made, and he’d heard that our firm is known for discretion. It appears he works for a small mining firm and is being sent to China for a month on business. He wants to make sure nothing happens to his daughter, Jules. Apparently, there have been concerns about her personal safety in the past.”

Declan handed her back the file.

“Babysitting,” Declan and Charlie said in unison before Charlie headed back into his office.

“Daddy probably just doesn’t want her to get drunk and do something that’ll jeopardise his reputation,” Declan added.

Mrs B sighed again. “Did you ever consider that she might just be a mature, responsible young adult? They do make themthat way, you know.” She turned and headed back to her desk muttering, “Not that you’d know that from what I’ve seen around here lately.”

She sat at her desk and began to answer emails, typing a little harder than she intended to. Her work was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. She looked up. Declan was standing in his doorway.

“I’m sorry, Mrs B. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He gingerly approached her desk. “What else do we know about this Slate guy, or his daughter Jules?”

“So, I’m the detective now?”

“I just wondered if he’d said something in passing when you spoke to him…”

“I didn’t speak to him. He just sent that email. Everything I know is in the folder I gave you. He said he felt it would be worth whatever you charge to make sure his ex-wife didn’t do anything to his daughter while he was away. If you want to know more, you…or the other one, can find out on your own. Whatever is going on, his money is as good as anyone else’s. And maybe he won’t be as difficult as some of your previous clients. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going downstairs for a coffee.”

Mrs B abruptly stood and walked past Declan. She pulled open the office door revealing a young woman whose hand was raised to knock. She was casually dressed in runners, jeans and a tight-fitting, white tank top.

“If you’re looking for a detective, they’re just in there,” Mrs B said, flicking her head in the general direction of the office before stomping down the stairs.

* * * *

Charlie heard a voice in the outer office. “I’d like to speak to Mr Watts, if he’s in.”

“Over here,” Charlie called, poking his head out of his door.

She walked toward him. “Charles Watts?”

“It’s Charlie. May I help you?”

She handed him an envelope. “Congratulations. You’ve been served.”

“What?”

The woman put her hands up and said, “Don’t shoot the messenger.” Then she spun on her heels and left.

Charlie opened the envelope and read the paper inside. His heart began to race. He looked at Declan. “I’m being sued by Rick Frazer. He was the guy I was investigating for cheating on his husband. His ex is suing him for everything—the house, half their savings and their car.”

“Ouch,” Declan said. “Didn’t they drive a Maserati?”